Portrait's room
by sahane
Summary: In response to Switchknife’s ‘Death challenge’. Who is separating Draco from Harry, even in an unusual situation? Hints of HPDM slash, but nothing graphic, rating is just for swearing.


**Disclaimer**: they are not mine, be sure, they belong to a lady with much more culture. ;-)

In response to **switchknife**'s 'Death challenge'. Who is separating Draco from Harry, even in an unusual situation? Kind of HPDM slash, but nothing graphic. Maybe NC-13 for swearing, I'm not sure, better R to be in the safe side of ff.net.

Enjoy! (it's not beta'ed, so if you find any mistakes...whack me with an english grammar book!)

Ah, and just to clarify... this is a one-shot, never thought about a sequel, or a prequel, or anything similar for that matter. I'm just reposting it because I gave it a re-reading and some changes...

The soft murmur of voices dies the moment he puts his hand on the door, leaving an uneasy pregnant silence, the same that autumn's fallen leaves seem to expel now when he wanders around the gardens. Full of harsh things it is, this silence.

Not amazingly, Draco is just pocketing his wand again at his entrance, and in front of him only a deep scowl and a mouth forming menacing words can be seen, but not heard. Harry had sometimes wondered if a Avada Kedavra could kill coming from that source, but he didn't had to wait too much to know the answer. It can't, however much Him would like it to.

Harry can't stand being in this room more than a couple of minutes, and yet he comes frequently to drag Draco to his semblance of life again. All those silent portraits, looking at him coldly, silently fuming to tell him some things about mudbloods and bloody Gryffindors, but quiet nevertheless. They do not dare to disobey His order, and so no portrait of Malfoy will ever deign his filthy existence.

Fine, make them shut the fuck up, berate me all you want, Harry doesn't care. Indeed, he would dance a little happy dance in front of Him saying 'Fuck you bastard! Let them keep your soul forever in hell! You got what you deserved, you rotten excuse for a person, and I'm glad you finally did us all the favour of dying' But Draco cares. Cares more than is mentally healthy, and while it takes a silencing charm to shut up His mouth when he goes in there, Harry can keep a neutral expression on his face all the time, just for the sake of Draco, glaring at Him only occasionally.

Draco seems so lost standing there, day after day, and when Harry embraces him, letting his warmth diffuse to the cold skin beneath his arms, only a soft sigh escapes his lips. He won't speak there to Harry, as he won't speak of Him out of this room. He won't speak of what they talk here, either, but Harry is not totally deprived of intuition_: leave him, half-blood, family pride, come back to your senses, it's not too late, you need a Heir, kill him, hurt him, come back to us, leave him_. Strangely enough, Harry has never heard His voice raised in anger against Draco whenever he approaches the room. Only to him, and only the first day. After that, a silencing charm has always been in order.

Lately he has been more distant, the damned coldness of that bloody room lingering in him all day, no matter how sunny the day is. Maybe it is the upcoming winter, or the slowly increasing time in there. Harry tries to cheer him up, Severus also tries to cheer him up, whenever he's not also in that room, and sometimes they succeed. A smile blossoms, or a spark of passion crosses his eyes, or his funny wit makes an appearance again. But it all fades quickly, and soon he's again in front of Him, listening again to all His venom.

And how Harry hates Him. With a passion that rivals that one of his youth. He dreams of putting his hands around that neck and crush it as he laughs. Of hitting him to death with a silver cane. Of mouthing at him that two words that He is so fond of use nowadays.

But at night, he is not the only one that dreams of Him. Sometimes he wakes to a telltale wetness on his shoulder, and soft whimpers on his ear. That times, he feels embarrassed of his inner rejoicing of His fall. Draco is still broken, and he can't truly understand it as he has nothing to refer to. So he calms him with caresses, and listens to sappy stories about brooms and birthday parties and holidays and 'oh how good He was', even if everybody except Draco knows that He was a cold bastard, and murmurs soft agreements in the right places of the conversation.

But it has been some time now, and Draco doesn't seem to be recovering as he should. He is recovering, but who is this silent stranger that emerges more and more? Who refuses to visit the Weasleys or visiting Severus at Hogwarts? Harry tries to bring his Draco back, but it's difficult since they gave Him the Kiss.

He nuzzles on his neck, mouthing a silent 'Come with me, please?', and Draco complies, leaning into him as if that embrace gave him the energy to go through that door, to a completely different world. They go together, not without Draco lifting the charm the second they are out of there, giving Him a last look.

And, as on every damm time, Harry makes himself a vow: 'Damn you, bloody son of a bitch. Damn you. I did not lost him to you in life, and I won't lost him to your fucking portrait, Lucius Malfoy.'

**Feed a poor student... Review!!**


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